


The Holy Knight

by Papy_1412



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, First Meeting, Getting Together, Hubert is immediately gay and in love, Love yourself hour, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Model Ferdinand, Monica is there too I guess ugh, Photographer Hubert, The feeling is obviously mutual, This is some extreme fluff right here, based on art, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papy_1412/pseuds/Papy_1412
Summary: Hubert loves photography, he loves sceneries, finding shapes in a wall, playing with the shadows projected by a bench, finding one colored stone in the middle of grey gravel. He does not photograph living things. This photoshoot is just a favor he's doing to his friend, for a class project.And yet, he finds himself desperately wanting to take pictures of this one model, this one person, with the firm belief he'd never get bored of him.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	The Holy Knight

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot that came from a silly convo we had, me, Apo ([@Pillow_boi](https://twitter.com/Pillow_boi)) and rom ([@ROMc_m](https://twitter.com/ROMc_m)), about her beautiful fanart of Holy Knight Ferdinand : https://twitter.com/ROMc_m/status/1282706351802572800?s=20
> 
> And well, Apo said he kinda looked like he's holding a phone on his shoulder, and going from there, I imagined him being in the middle of a photoshoot and... well, the rest is here.
> 
> Enjoy!!

“Ah, err, sorry, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of a shooting right now…”

Hubert fiddles with the buttons of the camera, just to occupy his hands. Everything is already ready, the light panels are placed, the stylist and make-up artists are done with the model. Now, he just has to take those pictures.

And yet the model is answering a phone call, his neck all red in embarrassment. His smile is starting to fade, the chatter in his ear never stopping. He sends apologetic looks to the crew.

“Yes, yes, I heard, this is terrible, but like I said–”

Hubert is fine with waiting, he’s not busy today. This shooting means nothing to him, he would certainly never work on this type of simili heroic fantasy setting on his own. He usually never photographs humans, anyway.

He likes isolated places, illuminated by the light in the very morning or late afternoon, those sights almost no one ever sees. He likes when buildings have strange angles that he can photograph from very close, so close you start to wonder what the picture is. He likes vibrant colors, contrasts, imperfect shapes.

The shape in front of him, however, is everything but imperfect. Ferdinand Aegir’s face is very symmetrical, his jaw is cut, his eyelashes so long without any mascara. His body-build is not a usual one for a model, he has large shoulders, accentuated by the heavy armor they made him wear. His waist is fairly thin, but it’s only when compared to his thighs, which rest strong on the fake saddle he sits on.

And his hair. His hair falls along his back, with some locks resting on his right shoulder. The orange curls are striking, vibrant, they perfectly frame his face.

Hubert loves photography, he loves sceneries, finding shapes in a wall, playing with the shadows projected by a bench, finding one colored stone in the middle of grey gravel. He does not photograph living things. This photoshoot is just a favor he's doing to his friend, for a class project.

And yet, he finds himself desperately wanting to take pictures of this one model, this one person, with the firm belief he'd never get bored of him.

This man who keeps on biting his lower lip, more and more upset at whoever is chatting his ear off. There is no pressure, Hubert is a freelance photographer who works at subway to pay his rent. This is a silly university project, no one would be mad at him for delaying the shooting of a few minutes. And Hubert certainly appreciates having more time to appreciate the view of a man he just met, from the light frown of a brow, to the glimpse of the ankle that appears when he moves his foot in a certain way.

Ferdinand finally manages to hang up, loudly sighing as he carelessly throws his phone in the direction of his bag. Finally, he says :

“Very sorry about that! We can start, I’m sorry for making you all wait!”

Hubert answers nothing, already back to his camera. He asks him to move a little, so that he is perfectly centered, with the right lighting. Then, the girl in charge of the project starts giving him directions. They want him to look brave, a knight in shining armor. Ferdinand gets in character, looks at the objective.

Hubert does what he’s supposed to do, calmly. If his heart skips when he feels that the stare is about to make him, the camera, and everything that’s around, melt; he doesn’t show it. He stays hidden behind the objective, and shoots picture after picture.

At one point, Ferdinand gives out a little smile. He’s not straying out of character, but he gains this cockiness that wasn’t there before, and the director loves it. She tells him to do exactly that, that this is what she was going for. Hubert fights to keep his hand steady, because that smile, on his camera lense, feels like it is directed at him and nobody else.

He can’t help it. His mind goes wild. He imagines himself, in a world where he would be brave enough to ask the man to model again, for his eyes only. He imagines Ferdinand saying yes, with that bright smile of his. He imagines them in Hubert’s apartment, not doing anything but taking photos, the photographer snapping pictures of the outside light falling in lines on a naked foot. A curtain of wavy hair, in contrast with his dark walls. A single beauty mark, hidden at the bottom of a neck. The white of his hand, so bright compared to the tan of a muscled thigh. Red lips, bitten not in embarrassment but lust. Wide and black pupils, dilated and expecting.

Hubert closes his eyes, as he finally returns to reality. He is still in this studio. The shooting is about to end. Ferdinand is starting to fidget, uncomfortably sitting on this fake saddle with this heavy armor on. The director gives the photographer a look, and he nods. He’s done.

He quickly removes the SD card and plugs it into his computer, so that the entire crew can see the results. There’s about fifty pictures, and Hubert slowly goes through them, waiting for the director to give him his thoughts. They all decide on one picture, and Hubert tells them he’ll work on it quickly, that he’ll take care of the printing and everything.

And that’s it. Everyone congratulates each other, especially Ferdinand and Hubert who had nothing to do with the project in the first place. Ferdinand, who just came back from changing his clothes, shakes his head and tells everyone that it was a pleasure to help. Hubert tries not to think too much about the sight of the bright hair in a loose ponytail and as the sweaty neck it reveals.

Since he was removing his costume while they were choosing a picture, he approaches Hubert to take a look at it. The remaining crew is already back at work, taking down the light panels, putting away the accessories, make up, etc. Hubert too needs to put all of his equipment back into his bags, so he excuses himself.

However, Ferdinand stays to help him. He says it’s an apology for the time they lost because of his overly long phone call. Hubert shakes his head.

“No one minded. We had time. And it seemed important.”

“It was _not_ ,” he insists.

“Your girlfriend would’ve been mad if you hadn’t answered.”

Hubert feels his guts twist as soon as the words leave him. He has absolutely no idea where this came from. This is such a cheesy way to ask the man if he’s single. When silence answers him, Hubert raises his head from his equipment bag, ready to fake it as a joke. He sees the horrified look the redhead is giving him.

He should’ve known. It is not pleasant to get hit on, even more by a gloomy looking man like Hubert, who the type to stab you in a back alley just for the rush it would bring him. He wonders if he should just run away, leave and forget everything that just happened, when he hears.

“Monica, my girlfriend? Oh, god, please save me from that image.” Ferdinand fakes a gagging sound. “No, she is just an annoying classmate, we were once paired for a project and that's it. She calls me all the time now. I am this close to start calling it harassment.”

Hubert frowns at that. Ah. So he’s upset about the girl, not him. While this part is good to know, he feels a little bad hearing this, but he doesn’t say anything else. They just met, after all, he shouldn't meddle.

Ferdinand doesn’t even seem to catch on the innuendo behind Hubert’s question. He just shakes his head, and goes back to the original conversation.

“Anyway, I’m so glad everything turned out so well! I never thought I’d ever wear this kind of armor, it’s really well made too. It was so hard to put on, this shows how realistic it is.”

“Bernadetta did a great job designing the whole thing, I agree.”

“Still, you managed to make me look so strong,” he sighs with a small smile, looking at the picture on the computer screen. “I felt so small, inside. But you made it seem like I was born to wear it.”

Hubert exhales a little laugh, shaking his head. The soft look and voice creates tingles inside his chest. He is kind of pathetic, so weak and attracted to a man he just met.

“I didn’t do much. It was all because of the attire, decorations, lights, and model itself. I just pushed on a button a few times.”

“Don’t say that,” Ferdinand smiles. “I could say the same, I just stayed still for a while. Every work deserves praise.”

Hubert has no come-back to that. If he had, he would praise Ferdinand for his natural beauty, for the ring of his voice, and the color of his eyes. So he just shuts up, nods and finally closes his computer to slide it into his shoulder bag.

“Ah,” Ferdinand says. “You have a lot of equipment, don’t you. Let me help. My hands are free.”

“You don’t have to.”

However, the redhead is clearly a stubborn man and he takes the larger bag like it weighs nothing. Since Ferdinand rolled his sleeves, Hubert can see the muscles working underneath the dark skin, and he forgets to refuse.

They walk in silence to the entrance of the building, but as soon as they pass the threshold, Ferdinand takes a step back. And another one, hoping to hide in the shadow of the building. However, it is already too late : a petite girl with dark red almost violet hair is already running in his direction.

“Ferdie!” she squeals, all red with excitement. “You’re finally done, that’s great. I really needed to talk to you today.”

Hubert watches the girl and frowns, pretty sure he recognizes that voice. This pitch and tone, he could hear them even a few meters away, coming from Ferdinand’s phone a hour or so earlier.

He immediately takes a step to his left, blocking the way to what seems to be _Monica_ , flesh and bones. Her face immediately crunches in annoyance.

“Hey, move away from the door, Dracula.”

That actually makes him laugh. He turns it to a low kind of chuckle he mastered long ago, that he only uses when faced with cheeky teens who think they can intimidate him.

“Are you Monica?”

“Huh?” She frowns, watching him with contempt. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I do. Since you spent ten minutes talking Ferdinand’s ear off even though he was very busy.”

Monica puts her hands on her hips, trying to keep face even though Hubert is starting to loom over her, more than a head taller.

“What are you, his guardian? He’s a big boy, and I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Ferdinand is watching this happen with wide eyes, still hidden in the shadows of the corridor leading to the entrance door. Hubert turns his head, and silently asks him if he wishes for Hubert to mind his own business.

The model immediately shakes his head.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t wish to see you right now.”

“Huh?! You bastard, Ferdie!” She now tries to push Hubert away, but he keeps his hands to himself, very careful about not touching her in any way that she could turn against him. He takes a step, now getting uncomfortably close to the younger woman, who steps back. “If you touch me, I’m calling the cops, you creep!”

And that’s when he smiles for real, showing his teeth, and he takes great advantage of the hair hiding his right eye to give her his coldest glare.

“Please do. Which part will you pretend I touched? Your hair? Your cheek?” He slowly bends over her and whispers. “How could they know, if the only thing they can find is little pieces of you, scattered around the city and wrapped like Christmas presents.”

She clearly turns grey hearing that, and immediately runs away screaming for help. Hubert keeps on chuckling, very happy with his own acting. And then he turns to Ferdinand, who is watching him owlishly, mouth open in bewilderment.

“I think it’s our clue to run, before she actually comes back with the police.”

That awakens Ferdinand, who gives him a quick nod and then pushes his hand in his pocket, to find his keys.

“Need a ride?”

“Please. After you.”

They run through a few streets, even though Monica already disappeared and will certainly not call the cops on them. Finally, they get into the car, out of breath, and that’s when Ferdinand starts laughing. Hubert quickly joins him.

“Christmas presents?" Ferdinand giggles. "Oh my god, your mind is so fucked!”

“It’s in the first Dexter season,” Hubert explains, while trying to regain some dignity.

“Well, I sure hope she got the message. Otherwise, I might have to call you every time she corners me.”

“I’ll be sure to take notes from other serial-killer shows.”

Once again, Ferdinand’s shoulders shake with laughter. Hubert watches him with a barely repressed smile, now finally having the time to enjoy the sight of a true dishevelled Ferdinand, redden cheeks because of the run and the mirth.

“I can’t say I was expecting that from you,” he says softly, bringing a lock of red hair behind his ear. “You looked so closed-off during the shooting, I thought it was timidity. Clearly I was wrong.”

“Timid?” he repeats, because he almost wonders if he heard wrong. “Me?”

“Well, yes?”

Hubert chuckles, and combs his hair back with his fingers.

“I’m usually told I’m gloomy, or intimidating. It took years for Bernadetta and me to hold conversations without her thinking I was planning her murder.”

“Oh… I mean, I guess I can imagine why, after seeing you scare away Monica. But I didn’t get this feeling at all.”

“Are you scared now?”

He says that while raising an eyebrow, only half joking. Ferdinand looks at him, turning on his seat, with a hand on his chin.

“Hm... I’m not.” He starts smiling, and stars seem to shine in his eyes. “Why would I be afraid of my knight in shiny armor?”

That actually takes Hubert off guard. His eyes widen while he slowly blinks.

“Your knight?”

Ferdinand nods.

“You saved me from Monica. And this was no easy task, she is very persistent.”

Now, he might be blushing. At least, he feels like he cannot face Ferdinand anymore, and he shakes his head.

“She was just pissing me off. You would’ve been fine without me.”

“You really do not like compliments, do you…”

Hubert just shrugs. The conversation dies very quickly after that. Ferdinand asks for his address, and he starts driving there.

They keep to small talk for the rest of the ride, Hubert still a little bit embarrassed. He learns that Ferdinand just models to pay bills, but he's in no way looking to spend his life doing that. He's a student in veterinary school and has been around horses his whole life, which explains why him being on a saddle looked so fitting. As well as the size of his thighs.

At last, Ferdinand parks in front of Hubert’s building, and after giving him his bags back, the two of them stand awkwardly in the street, trying to find a way to just say goodbye.

“Really, thank you,” Ferdinand ends up saying. “For the thing, with Monica. I get overwhelmed sometimes, and I can't manage to say no.”

“There’s no need to thank me, really.”

“I still wanted to. Also… Huh…” Ferdinand starts to play with a lock of hair, and clears his throat. “You should give me your number. You know, if she comes back.”

It actually feels like an arrow, striking Hubert from nowhere. He looks at Ferdinand to check if he’s joking, or worse, making fun of him. Ferdinand is holding out his phone, open on the calling screen. He’s not joking.

“...Sure.” Hubert reaches for the phone, types his number in, then calls himself. “There you go.”

The model finally starts to smile again, looking at his screen and then at Hubert.

“Great.” He nods, his lips tight. “You’ll finish working on the picture this weekend, right? Can you send it to me? I’d love to see the final result.”

Hubert wants to answer yes, of course, and leave it at that. But the look of Ferdinand’s face, the slight blush, the honesty from earlier, it turns around his head. And finally, god knows how, he asks :

“Would you pose for me?”

Ferdinand does this thing again - his eyes get bigger and he just stays silent, like he needs to proceed what he just heard. However, at this moment, this makes Hubert extremely uneasy, and he immediately starts to babble :

“Nothing weird, of course. It’s just that it felt right, to take pictures of you even though I usually don't work with people. It's only if you have time. I’m not asking a favor either, it’s really if you want to– ”

“I’d love to!”

Ferdinand almost shouts his answer, now looking embarrassed about losing his cool like that. Still, he nods furiously and even takes a step forward so that he can catch Hubert’s shoulders and reiterate, in a quieter voice :

“I’d love to. I’d love to see more of your work too. When are you free?”

Hubert blinks, feeling overwhelmed by the blinding light that is Ferdinand Aegir talking right into his face. He clears his throat, but does not try to shy away from the other man’s hands.

“I have to work on your picture. And I usually have morning shifts.”

Ferdinand nods again, looking very pleased. He finally lowers his hands, but he does not step back.

“How about next monday afternoon? We can have coffee, while you tell me about what you’re planning to do with me?”

Hubert feels his heart shaking a little, when he sees Ferdinand’s eyes shining with hope. He swallows, and nods.

“That’s a date.”

Ferdinand’s smile gets so large, and Hubert fights with his wish to kiss the dimples that appear on his cheeks.

“A date it is.”

* * *

The shutter sound echoes in the room. Ferdinand doesn’t move though, still languidly lying on the bed, barely covered by the sheets. Only one of his eyes is visible, the other one hidden in a sea of bright orange hair. Behind the slope of his biceps, he hides a smile.

“I hope those don’t end up in your portfolio.”

Hubert snickers at that, still hovering above his boyfriend, barely touching him and still hidden behind his camera.

“They might, if I decide to work for some kind of risqué magazine.”

A middle finger answers him, and Hubert takes advantage of that, catching the hand and turning it around, to find an interesting angle he could work on. When he’s satisfied, he asks Ferdinand to keep his hand steady, his fingers projecting a shadow on the wall that almost look like an eagle.

“Well, it might get a better reaction out of my father than telling him I’ve been dating an artist for three months already.”

“The more it lasts, the greater the risk of a heart attack. I now understand why you decided to tolerate me so.”

“You I greatly enjoy. The constant coffee stains on the bed, I barely tolerate.”

Hubert huffs a laugh, and finally lowers his camera. No matter how many days pass, he still finds himself entranced by the sight of his lover. The dip of his hip that no picture could bring justice to. The color of his hair that no paint could replicate. The scent of his body during sex, better than any perfume.

Hubert slowly kisses his way up his lover’s body. He starts at the bottom of the slope of his hips, tasting the soft skin that turns golden under sunlight. And then along a resting arm, nuzzling the soft duvet, to the firm biceps that he can’t help but nibble, greatly enjoying how firm it is.

Ferdinand lets out a long sigh when the mouth finally get to his throat. The skin is so thin, burning his lips with every thump he can feel underneath. Hubert keeps going, until he finally rests at the angle of a jaw, just behind the ear. Slowly, a hand comes, combing through the short dark hair, and pushes until their lips are finally reunited.

“Now…” Ferdinand whispers, barely moving away from the kiss. “It’s my turn.”

Hubert moans when he feels his legs being opened, and the push against his entrance. He sucks on his lovers tongue, completely gone under the ministrations, the fingers going inside him and stroking his most sensitive point.

Ferdinand makes love to Hubert like he’s the most beautiful thing he's ever touched. He adores taking his time, making him crazy with desire, just to see him completely gone in pleasure, completely honest and open. He particularly loves fingering him for way too long while whispering in his ear, telling him how gorgeous, and wonderful he think he is.

This is just fitting. Hubert worshipping through his camera, while Ferdinand uses full on contact and words.

Soon enough, Ferdinand loses patience and asks if he can fuck him. Even if the answer is always yes, he always asks, and Hubert loves it, just because he loves hearing that word roll off his lover’s tongue. When he is really really excited, he even says please.

He feels Ferdinand inside and he hums with pleasure. The stretch is always perfect, and the slight shiver that shakes his lover every time is a delight. He pushes slightly against him, to ask him to move.

They do not always have this kind of slow, sensual sex. Sometimes, after an exhausting day full of annoying clients or asshole teachers, they like it hard and intense. And they experiment a lot. But on those days, when all they want is to marvel in the others body, they usually get sentimental.

Today, all Ferdinand wants is to tell, again and again, how good Hubert is, taking him so well, so beautiful when he abandons himself to pleasure. And Hubert is unable to say anything back, shivering with every thrust and asking for more.

Ferdinand keeps a nice rhythm, hands sliding along his thighs, nuzzling dark sweaty hair matted on a forehead. He traces Hubert’s red cheeks with his fingertips, and swallows every whimper.

And then Hubert starts saying his name reverently. Like he still cannot fathom being with such a beautiful person, like this is all a dream he wishes he’d never wake up from. And Ferdinand answers. He calls his name too, kisses his ear, his eyebrow, and tells him that he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere.

They both undulates against the other, their chest pressed so tightly they might end up becoming one. Hubert tightens the grip of his legs on Ferdinand’s, to get closer, even closer, even if it’s uncomfortable, just to feel him more. He claws at the large shoulders, as if he’d lose himself if he decided to let go.

Both of them climb slowly to their climax. Hubert always watches : the way Ferdinand closes his eyes and throws his head back when he comes, ethereal and divine with his hair in disarray, his red mouth open and tears at the corner of his eyes.

It all explodes in a symphony of moans, high whispers, wet slapping of sweaty skin. But Ferdinand always watches too : the way Hubert clenches his jaw, blinks faster, and his hand that grips anything it can – his own hair, the pillow, the sheets, anything.

Their hips come to slow roll and they gently climb down from their high. Ferdinand softly kisses the corner of his mouth and, as usual, finds his hair in the way of the kiss. That makes him huff in annoyance while his lover snorts and tucks the strand behind his ear.

“Maybe I should cut them…”

Hubert hums. “I would be very sad to see them go, but you’d be gorgeous even if you were bald, I'm sure.”

“Ugh, not _that_ short…”

Ferdinand finally extricates himself from their embrace so that he can throw away his condom. He parades naked in Hubert’s apartment, catching a bottle of water and then a soft towel. He comes back to the bed and gently washes away their mess. When he’s done, he returns to the soft sheets and warm embrace of his lover, nuzzling the top of his head.

“What about you? Would you grow your hair?”

The answer is an immediate grunt. Ferdinand blinks.

“I had longer hair when I was a teenager,” Hubert finally mumbles. “It really didn’t suit me.”

“Oh please tell me you have pictures.”

Hubert sighs but he takes his phone, and scrolls down his old facebook account until he finds one he judges to be good enough. Then he turns the screen to Ferdinand, who squeals in delight.

“Oh my god, Hubert, you had an emo phase!”

“I’m glad you used past tense. Some would argue I’m still right in the middle of it.”

Ferdinand grins, now looking at the other pictures Hubert probably didn’t want him to see.

“You were already very handsome.”

“I looked like a wet rat.”

“No way! I mean, the eyeliner is a little bit cringe, and it’s too bad you were hiding your beautiful eyes, but you already had such a nice profile.”

“This is because you have very bad taste.”

Ferdinand lowers the phone, looking at him with reproach.

“...sorry.”

“I see I still have a lot of work to do, huh.”

Hubert has no time to change the subject, or apologize for his usual low-esteem speech. Ferdinand pushes him on his back, straddling his lap, and starts the shower of compliments.

“I love your hair, it's dark but it's still a rich color, and it shines in the light. Your hands are so large, and rough from the chemicals, but when you hold me I always feel safe."

Hubert has learnt to not fight it, and just lets him talk, but he still battles against the blush he’s sure will soon bloom on his face.

“I adore how delicately you always hold your roll of films. And the way your nose scrunches a little bit when you’re looking at it through the light. You’re attentive to every little detail, because you love photography, and you truly enjoy making art. You’re passionate, and I admire your capacity to look for beauty in everything.”

This continues like this for a least five minutes, and Ferdinand is relentless, his smile wider every time his boyfriend groans in embarrassment. At the end of it, Hubert is cherry red. He hides his face as much as he can in his pillow.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“Yes you did.” Ferdinand laughs and rolls on his back, but his head stays directed at his lover. “You tricked yourself, when you decided to be my knight in shiny armor. Now, I’ll have to repay you with compliments for an entire lifetime.” He winks. “And maybe a little bit more after that.”

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a silly au, but it ended as a Loving Hubert and Making Him Love Himself Hour.  
> I have zero (0) regrets.
> 
> Take his advice guys. Love yourselves too. Ferdie thinks you're all beautiful.
> 
> I wrote this super fast, so the end is a little bit whatever, sorry about that lol
> 
> Also, Hubert's photos and style is 100% inspired from my sister's instagram. She's no photographer (though she works in design), but man, there's been too many times when she's taken a pic of some weird shadow or angle and after looking at it for ten minutes, I have still no idea what it is. I felt like this would fit Hubert's style lol
> 
> Anyway, I have two others Ferdibert projets right now, but this one-shot fell on me so suddenly, and it's actually pretty short for my standards. So here you go! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@Papy1412](https://twitter.com/Papy1412)


End file.
